


On the Education of an Amazonian Princess, and the Perils Thereof

by yasaman



Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 22:18:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13040607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yasaman/pseuds/yasaman
Summary: “That’s it, I quit,” Gordafarid whispered.Mastani smothered her laugh. “What does that make you, the fourth tutor?”“The fifth. It’s been less than a year,” moaned Gordafarid. “We are Amazons, we aren’t meant for the nursery. I’m sure Diana will be perfectly pleasant to teach once she’s reached the age of reason, but now…”“Shall we begin to hope some iron-willed governess dies on the field of battle with a goddess’s name on her lips?”A few glimpses at the comedy and drama of Diana's revolving door of tutors.





	On the Education of an Amazonian Princess, and the Perils Thereof

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coffeesuperhero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeesuperhero/gifts).



> coffeesuperhero, your prompt about Diana's revolving door of tutors instantly caught my attention when I got my assignment. Hope you enjoy!

“Alright, so with the proposed modifications, let us vote on Iphigenia’s new irrigation layout. All those in favor?” A chorus of ayes filled the senate chambers. “All those opposed?” Only a few scattered nays. “The motion is passed then. Iphigenia will implement the new terracing and irrigation next planting season.”

The assembled senators began to gather their papers, and chatter cropped up as everyone readied to adjourn today’s session. Iphigenia’s proposal had been last on the schedule, and sunset was not far off.  

Hippolyta cleared her throat and smiled. “Forgive me, senators, but I have one more matter for your attention.” Once she had everyone’s attention, she continued, “Diana will be four years old soon, and it will be time to begin her education in earnest.”

The senators looked at her with varying degrees of polite interest. “…Congratulations?” assayed Senator Nemeia.

“She’s a delightful child, and clever. I’m sure she will do well,” said Senator Acantha with a warm smile.

“Thank you. I was hoping some of you would have suggestions and proposals for the course of her education. I will expect some at the next Senate meeting.” Hippolyta smiled again at the assembled senators. “Thank you, we may adjourn for the day.”

Some startled murmurs rippled through the senate. “Forgive me, my queen, but is Diana’s education really a matter for the whole Senate to weigh in on?” asked Senator Rani.

“She is the only child on Themyscira, the youngest of all of us, who has never known the mortal world. And just as we all help with welcoming our new sisters to Themyscira, teaching them the ways of the Amazons, so we must welcome and shepherd Diana into adulthood as an Amazon. I will need my sisters’ help to do so, for I cannot teach her everything.” There was a considering, if still skeptical, hush of conversation at that. Hippolyta just tipped her head and gave them all that charming, slightly coy smile of hers. “And, as I’m sure you will all recall, I am not one of our more gifted poets, or lyre players. For all of our sakes, someone else should be teaching Diana poetry and music.” Light laughter rippled through the chamber. The Amazons loved their queen, but it was true, her more artistic endeavors were none too skilled. “Please, think on it. Now, we will adjourn until next month.”

* * *

At the next Senate meeting, a few senators duly submitted proposals for Diana’s education. One suggested that Diana rotate through a series of apprenticeships, learning the work of the island job by job until she found what suited her best.

“When she is older, perhaps,” said Hippolyta. It was far from a bad idea, and Hippolyta had been minded to suggest something similar once Diana was full-grown.

Another proposal was simply a list of texts from the library for Diana to read through on her own and then discuss with a tutor. The list was hundreds of texts long. Hippolyta set it aside with a gracious smile. Privately, Hippolyta thought her energetic daughter did not yet have the patience for such an education. And Diana was such an active child, she would chafe at such quiet work.

“She will have to be taught how to read, first,” said Hippolyta rather than voicing any of these misgivings.

Senator Melpomene gave a flustered nod. “Oh! Of course, of course.”

Some proposals suggested tutors for various subjects, or included letters from Amazons who were applying for the position. Hippolyta set these aside to follow up on. She would interview the candidates, see how they got along with Diana. Diana was, of course, an unalloyed delight of a child who every Amazon on the island adored, but not everyone could handle her exuberance.

From Artemis, Hippolyta received a detailed training regimen, complete with annotations from Antiope.

“Diana will not be training for battle.”

Artemis raised an eyebrow. “Of course not. She is too young for that yet. But the foundations must be laid, and the activity will be good for her—”

“No. Diana will not be fighting. She may run foot races, and dance. That is quite enough activity for a girl of her age. And what war is there for her to fight, here on Themyscira?” Hippolyta shook her head. “No training.”

Artemis inclined her head. “Yes, my queen.”

“We will begin with some tutoring in a few months, just a few hours a day to start. Thank you, everyone. Please feel free to continue to submit ideas. We have many years of Diana’s education to prepare for, after all.”

“…how many years?” asked a quiet voice from the back of the Senate chambers.

* * *

“Are you enjoying your lessons, Diana?”

“Yes, Mother!”

Hippolyta smiled as she brushed Diana’s thick, dark hair and marveled at how little she was squirming this evening. If nothing else, regular lessons were good for tiring her out more. It had only been a week, and Diana might grow accustomed to it yet and return to her usual level of bedtime excitement soon enough, but for now, Hippolyta appreciated her slightly less fidgety daughter.

“And you are minding Calliope?”

“Yes, Mother! I like Calliope, she’s nice. She tells good stories.”

“What stories did she tell today?”

“I was learning more of my letters, so she told me about Enheduanna.” Diana pronounced the long name carefully, and Hippolyta heard the echo of Calliope’s patient tutoring. “She was the first writer!”

“The first writer whose name we know,” corrected Hippolyta gently.

“Yes! I liked Calliope’s stories about her. But I wanted to hear more about the story of Inanna and Shuk—Shuka—I can’t say his name. The gardener! But Calliope said I was too little still.”

Hippolyta didn't have to see Diana's face to know there was a ferocious scowl on it. As far as Diana was concerned, she was a big girl now. But why in the world would Calliope even mention Inanna and Shukaletuda? It was no story for a little girl to hear, and despite Diana's vociferous objections to the contrary, she was still a little girl. All the goddesses willing, there were lessons in that story that Diana would hopefully never have to learn. No man would ever violate Diana on Themyscira. God-killer or no, Diana would never have cause to understand how or why Inanna could wreak such vengeance. Hippolyta cast up a silent prayer for just that, and kept her hands gentle on Diana’s tender scalp as she gave Diana’s now shining hair one last brushstroke, then began braiding it for bed.

“Calliope is right. When you’re older, you can hear more of that story, and many more besides.”

“Or I can learn to read all the languages in the library and then I can read all the stories I want!” said Diana, flinging her arms wide.

Well, at least she was motivated, thought Hippolyta with a grin, even as a little thrill of alarm went through her at the thought of Diana devouring the entire contents of the library, age-appropriate or not, the moment her reading skills were strong enough. “Just so. Now, time for bed. How about the story of Athena and Arachne tonight?”

Diana gasped in delight. “Yes! With lots of spiders please!”

“Hmm, maybe just _one_ spider. I don’t want you too frightened to fall asleep!”

"Fiiiine. One spider. But it should be a very, very  _big_ spider! I won't be frightened, I promise!"

* * *

Calliope used to think she was a patient woman. She could spend months weaving an intricately detailed tapestry, or wait hours to catch the perfect fish. She could smile and listen to the fiftieth recitation of Philippus’s glorious victory in battle against Argus. She could teach an energetic child how to read and write, with multiple alphabets even, and she could spend days copying out letters with said child.

But maybe Calliope was finally learning the limits of her patience.

“But why?”

“Because some languages are written with logograms not alphabets.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s how some of the earliest forms of writing started.”

“Why?”

“Because…because people first started writing with pictographs, which are like little drawings. If you didn’t know how to write, but you still wanted to record the idea of an apple, you’d just draw a little apple, wouldn’t you? That’s how the first writing started. Then it got more complicated.”

“Why?”

Calliope took a deep breath. Curiosity was a good thing. A desire to learn more should be rewarded. “Because people had more complicated ideas they wanted to record.”

“Why?”

Oh for the love of Athena. “Diana, I don’t think you’re asking these questions in good faith.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means you don’t actually want to know the answers and you’re just stalling for time.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are—” Oh no, Calliope was turning into a five year-old. Calliope set the brush she’d been using to demonstrate Chinese characters down before she broke it. “Go. Go get some lunch. We will continue this lesson later!” she called out to an already retreating Diana.

After two more weeks of seemingly ceaseless rounds of “Why?” Diana’s favorite new word in any and every language, Calliope told Queen Hippolyta that she could no longer tutor Diana. When Hippolyta blinked in concern and asked, in all innocence, “Why not?” Calliope very nearly screamed.

* * *

“Have you seen Diana?” asked Gordafarid, skidding into the amphitheater on dusty sandals. She hoped she didn't look as frazzled as she felt, but it was probably hopeless, given how breathless her question had just sounded, and how her hair was frizzing wildly out of its tight braid. The Amazons practicing their dance for the Skirophoria paused, their bells and cymbals falling silent.

“Have you lost her again, Gordafarid?” asked Eurynome. The assembled dancers tittered with laughter.

“What is it, the fifth time this month?” asked another of the dancers.

“She is very small and very wily!” protested Gordafarid. “Now come, have any of you seen her?”

A chorus of “no” answered her, and Gordafarid’s shoulders slumped. “But she can’t have gotten far! I was just going to take her to see the weavers, so we could have a lesson on the Moirae, and I was holding her hand, but then she saw a butterfly and—”

“Here, I’ll help you look for her. She’s probably in that little clearing in the woods,” said Mastani as she slipped the bells from her ankles with her usual grace. Even after a morning of dancing, Mastani's hair was smooth and shining, and the only evidence of her exertion was the sheen of dewy sweat on her face. Gordafarid knew from experience that she looked just the same when she fought, her serenity untroubled no matter how dangerously she whirled and darted with her blades.

Gordafarid almost wanted to refuse the help, to recover some dignity if nothing else— _oh no, don't interrupt your practice, I'll find her myself, I'm sure she's not far_ —but if Diana was going to keep running off and ruining Gordafarid's carefully planned days, then she was at least going to get some benefit out of it. 

So she smiled, hopefully charmingly, and said, “Thank you!”

They took off at a jog for the clearing in the woods beside the amphitheater, and Gordafarid tried to stop staring at the bounce and sway of Mastani’s shiny, long black braid, and look for little Diana instead.

“So you will be dancing at the Skirophoria?” asked Gordafarid, then suppressed a wince. Stupid. Of course Mastani would be, she’d just been at the practice, hadn’t she?

Mastani didn’t seem to mind the stupid question. “Yes, I will be. And I’ll have a solo as well! I’m nervous about it, I have to admit.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t be. You’re a beautiful dancer.”

“Thank you,” said Mastani, and favored Gordafarid with a dimpled smile. “Oh, there she is!” said Mastani, pointing to a fallen log in the clearing, where Gordafarid could just see a glimpse of Diana’s once-pristine cream-colored tunic, and the bright, fluttering wings of butterflies.

“Diana! You still have a lesson!” Diana let out a small shriek of alarm, startling the jewel-toned butterflies into flight, then she took off running again. “Oh for—I’m telling your mother about this, Diana!” shouted Gordafarid, then ran after her, Mastani following.

Diana led them on a merry chase through the woods, crashing through them with all the grace of a wild boar rather than the slight little girl she was, and she gave no indication of slowing down. Gordafarid had not planned to run a marathon today, but Diana certainly seemed to be gearing up for one. Though based on Gordafarid’s mental map of the surrounding woods, she’d run out of room to run in eventually. This patch of forest ended at the cliffs sloping down to the seaside, and there was no path down the steep, sheer cliffside.

“Does she ever tire?” hissed Gordafarid when they paused to catch their breath and get their bearings.

Mastani laughed, the sound as bright and sweet as the bells she wore when she danced. “Come, this is good sport! Better than the races at the games!”

“Oh, yes, it’s all good fun until we have to explain to the queen that her precious terror of a daughter careened off a cliff!”

“Shh! I think I hear her. You go north, and I’ll go south, and we’ll flush her out.”

After some decidedly undignified creeping around the undergrowth, they finally caught Diana. She looked like a wild thing, her tangle of hair full of leaves and small twigs, and her tunic now more dirt-colored than cream. She made as if to bolt again, but Mastani caught her before she could hare off again.

“We are going straight back to the palace, young lady,” said Gordafarid, and hefted Diana over her shoulder like a sack of grain, ignoring the squeals of protest.

“You cannot run away from your lessons, I don’t care how interesting those butterflies are! Or the frogs that caught your fancy yesterday, or the hawk last week!”

“They’re more fun! Lessons are boring!” protested Diana.

“And you will learn about them in time! Now, we’re going to have our lesson on the Moirae, and you are going to listen,” said Gordafarid, and huffed and puffed her way through her planned lesson as they jogged through the woods.

Of course, Diana fell asleep during the long trek back to the palace, halfway through the lesson.

“That’s it, I quit,” Gordafarid whispered.

Mastani smothered her laugh. “What does that make you, the fourth tutor?”

“The fifth. It’s been less than a year,” moaned Gordafarid. “We are Amazons, we aren’t meant for the nursery. I’m sure Diana will be perfectly pleasant to teach once she’s reached the age of reason, but now…”

“Shall we begin to hope some iron-willed governess dies on the field of battle with a goddess’s name on her lips?”

Mastani’s dark eyes were sparkling with mirth, but Gordafarid was too taken with the idea of just such a new Amazonian sister.

“I don’t care if it’s terrible, I will pray most ardently to Anahita for just that.”

* * *

After one year of a veritable parade of tutors, the matter of Diana’s education came before the Amazonian Senate again. It wasn’t that Diana wasn’t learning, because she was, and she was a quick study at that. But she was…energetic and willful, to put it kindly. The tone of planning Diana’s education began to take on the air of planning a campaign.

“We have not yet exhausted the list of potential tutors,” said Hippolyta. “I think we just need a different strategy.”

“She would do better with other children her age,” said Senator Acantha.

“That’s not really an option.”

Antiope gave Hippolyta a thin smile. “Training would help. The child wants to train, it would be a good channel for all her energy and mischief. And Athena knows she could use the discipline.”

“No. I told you, that’s not an option.”

“Perhaps if she had more to do with her hands during lessons?” suggested Senator Melpomene. The collected Amazons took a moment to silently recall the last bit of mischief wrought by Diana’s tiny hands. Hands-on science lessons had been a decidedly mixed success. They’d only just managed to air the stench out of the palace. “Something creative, I mean. Creative and time-consuming.”

“She enjoys drawing!” suggested Senator Rani.

“She already doodles all over her slate during lessons,” said Hippolyta.

“Weaving?” suggested another senator.

“Maybe….”

“Would the looms survive it?” murmured Antiope, and Hippolyta glared at her, but didn’t deny it. “Embroidery then.”

“No, that requires a little too much attention, she’d never mind her lessons at the same time.”

“Basket weaving! Her fingers are nimble enough for it, and it’s mindless enough work,” said Senator Hypatia. A ripple of approval ran through the Senate.

Hippolyta considered it, then nodded. “Yes…yes, that will do, I think. Now, who’s next on the tutor roster?”

“Mnemosyne, my queen.”

“She will do wonderfully, I’m sure,” said Hippolyta with a confident smile. All the tutors had, at first. The question was how long she would last, when pitted against Diana’s will and the collapse of careful lesson plans. Hippolyta didn’t say that aloud though. “Now, on to other business. The fishing teams tell me we are in danger of overfishing the favored spots on the west of the island…”

* * *

To Hippolyta’s relief, Diana settled down to work on her lessons with Mnemosyne after only a couple of escape attempts, and the basket weaving did wonders to keep her out of mischief during her lessons. Mnemosyne credited the change to Diana simply growing older, and to providing her more time to play.

“She may not have peers to play with, but she still needs to play,” said Mnemosyne. “Let her roam free for a few hours a day, there’s little enough true danger she can get into on Themyscira.”

Hippolyta could think of plenty of dangers, but Mnemosyne’s methods seemed to be working, so she stayed her tongue, and praised the results of Diana’s improved focus on her lessons. And truly, Diana’s recitations from Hesiod’s _Theogony_ had been perfect, and her penmanship was much improved. Hippolyta indulged the both of them with a little bragging, and asked Diana to demonstrate both over dinner with Antiope and Menalippe. Once Diana curtsied prettily at the round of applause, and ran off with Menalippe to show her her (rather lumpy, but functional enough) baskets, Hippolyta turned to Antiope.

“See? She’s finally settled down. She just had to grow accustomed to the new routine, find a tutor that worked best with her.”

Antiope inclined her head, some wry mirth lighting her cat-like eyes. Hippolyta narrowed her eyes at her sister, but the look was gone in a flash. “As you say. Will it be enough to prepare her to meet her destiny?”

“There may yet be no such destiny,” said Hippolyta sharply.

“You do no one any favors with this denial, least of all Diana. Her destiny will come for her, whether we prepare her for it or not.”

“Let her be a child, Antiope,” said Hippolyta, more plea than command.

“Even if that includes all manner of mischief?” asked Antiope with a sphinx-like smile.

Hippolyta chuckled even as she winced. “Especially then.”


End file.
